


Challenge

by Rin_the_Shadow



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Continuity in later chapters, Budding Relationship, Cross-Generational Friendship, Exercising Together, F/M, Gen, Grieving, I have no intention of killing Kurt or 'Ro, Kinda Sorta Canon Compliant, Let the X-Men Be Happy 2018, Let the X-Men Be Happy 2k18, Male-Female Friendship, Probably not X-Men: The Last Stand compliant, Refusal of Grief, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Some hurt/comfort, Spoilers for X2, Which is where the major character death tag comes in, alternative scenes to X2, at least until the later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rin_the_Shadow/pseuds/Rin_the_Shadow
Summary: A collection of NightStorm fanfictions based on the drawing challenge I did for Midna's 21 Day OTP Challenge. Some will be sweet, others will have a little more hurt/comfort, hopefully all will satisfy. I have not yet decided whether to write them in chronological order or prompt order, but I hope to update every few weeks.





	1. By the Fire (sort of)

**Author's Note:**

> Although most of the prompts friends have given me are over the Alternate Timeline version of the characters, their adult counterparts in X2 were the ones who really captured my heart from the beginning. And since they get so little time together over the course of the movies, I thought I might try my hand at filling in some of that extra.
> 
> Will be a multi-chapter fic.

The newest addition to their group sat a little ways away from the rest of them. His mind was still a bit raw from letting Jean Grey sift through it, shaking loose the memories of Alkali Lake. Even now, she would occasionally send a gentle telepathic wave in his direction, just to make sure he was all right. While he didn't think he would ever get used to the sensation, it was not entirely unwelcome. Especially since it had a side effect of pushing out the residual traces of his earlier brainwashing. It was strange to be looked after again, having been on his own for so long since coming to Boston.

But the brainwashing had shaken something else loose. And therein hung his second reason to keep his distance. He didn't _really_ think any of them would hurt him, but less than two minutes on the _Blackbird_ with Logan had made it abundantly clear he would not be able to hide behind the Incredible Nightcrawler. And like a child with his security blanket taken away, Kurt found that the old fear had crept back in, urging him to the shadows, away from the group.

The youngest woman--she called herself Rogue, "Just Rogue," she had insisted when he asked if she had another name--Rogue had approached him twice. Initially, to thank him for saving her life earlier, and later to make sure he was okay.

At first, he thought she was referring to the telepathic probing he'd received, but in fact, her concerns were over the other recent additions--Magneto and Mystique. "I had a nasty piece of him in my head once," her lip curled at the memory. "I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

She hadn't wanted to elaborate on it. Fair enough. He didn't think _he_ could have elaborated if she had asked about Stryker.

They sat in silence for some time. Rogue picked at the grass, winding the blades between two fingers and ripping them into increasingly smaller pieces. Kurt had half a heart to tell her to leave the poor grass alone, even if in jest. 

A loud whoop rang out from behind them and Kurt winced as he heard the fire roaring for a split second, followed by several vocal protests and grumbled choice words. "John!" a sharp voice snapped. Kurt and Rogue turned just in time to see Ororo standing over the young pyrokinetic, arms folded and eyes lowered. Both shuddered, unable to suppress the image of themselves on the receiving end of that look.

Rogue rolled her eyes with a scoff. "Boys," she huffed, returning to her grass for a moment. Then she stopped mid-pluck.

"Don't mind them, by the way," she said.

"What?" His head tilted to one side.

"Them," she gestured vaguely in the direction of the group crowded around their campsite. "Logan takes awhile to warm up to people." For a split second, her lip curled into a wry smile, as if she was privy to an amusing secret. "John's...a _guy_..." She rolled her eyes. "And Bobby..." she pursed her lips, "Well, I'll work on him. Besides, Storm likes you and she doesn't like anyone."

He had to bite back a laugh at how flippantly she'd said that. "Surely you don't mean that."

Rogue raised a brow in near perfect mimicry of Ororo, smirking as if to ask, "Which part?"

"Shouldn't you think about getting some rest? We've got an early morning ahead of us." This time it was Rogue who jumped.

"Speak of the devil..." she muttered, standing and brushing herself off. "Yeah, I hadn't realized it was getting so late."

"You're not the only one, apparently," Storm sighed, subtly glaring daggers in the boys' direction. "Anyway, Jean had suggested you might feel more comfortable staying with us tonight. I thought I'd extend the offer."

Rogue turned and headed back towards the campsite, but not before flashing a terrifying grin that reminded Kurt all too well of the cat that swallowed the canary.

Ororo watched as she walked away, arms folded, one eyebrow raised in silent question. Kurt wanted to volunteer something, but he couldn't seem to find the right words. Or any words at all. "Holy Mother of God, help me" hardly seemed appropriate.

"In any event," Ororo sighed, turning back and lowering herself to Kurt's eye level, "I wanted to apologize for dragging you into this. I had hoped we'd be deciding what to do about everything at the school, but..." She ran a hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh.

"There is hardly anything you could have done," he replied, lowering his eyes. "I was involved long before you and Doktor Grey found me."

She frowned as if she was going to protest. He knew she couldn't, not truthfully, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

But then her hand was on his and he felt his pulse quicken. "I am glad to have you with us, even if the circumstances could be more ideal." She paused, breaking eye contact for just a moment as she mulled over her next words.

"What I mean is that _I_ have enjoyed getting to know you, Kurt. I would like to continue getting to know you." she smiled, taking both hands in hers. "It wouldn't be appropriate to expect an answer now with everything going on, but once this mission is finished, I hope you would consider it."

He swallowed hard, grateful that in the dark, his blue skin hid the warmth rising into his cheeks. He could feel his mind scrambling to process what she had said, and for a moment he almost convinced himself she'd spoken to him in another language. Her expression gave no indications it was a joke. But perhaps he was reading too much into it? That had to be it. But then...

"Hey," she whispered, as if she sensed his inner conflict. Or maybe just stole a glance at the tail behind him. "I mean that."

He swallowed again, forcing the muscles in his throat to work as he struggled to reply. "Yes, I...I would like that." Tension Kurt hadn't noticed before released from Ororo's shoulders.

Even three days ago, he never would have expected to be the one giving that answer, let alone that it would be a _desired_ answer. Yet there was a marginal release of tension in her shoulders. He almost had to laugh. What sort of backwards world had he stumbled into?

"In any event," she said, standing and pulling him to his feet. "We should probably head back as well."

"Ah, yes." He had wondered what they were planning to do with him.

"There should be room for you with the boys, but if you're uncomfortable with that, we'll figure out some way to accommodate you." Ororo spoke as she led him.

Kurt nodded, not fully trusting himself to respond at the moment.

"And Kurt," she paused, turning to him. "Whatever you decide, I still expect to hear about your days at the Munich Circus. As I recall, you never quite got around to telling me."

For the second time that night, Kurt found himself struggling to bite back a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joke's on you, Kurt. Storm can feel the heat from your blush.


	2. In the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude between challenge prompts. A conversation between two who haven't had that much interaction in the films, despite a strong friendship in the comics. It's almost a chapter 1.5, rather than a chapter 2.

It hadn’t been a bad night overall. Well, so far, at least. At some point, Kurt had awakened and moved to curl up against the base of a tree. He wasn’t sure why he did that. If Stryker’s men came for him, wouldn’t it be safer to stay in the tent? But then, if he expected it, would it really be fair of him to involve the others? He knew from his recent experience that Storm could take care of herself, as could Doktor Grey. He had not seen the others in action, but he assumed there would be very few foolish enough to fight them and expect to win.

But what of the others? They were barely more than children, and there were others even younger than them in the base. And then of course, there was the question of Magneto and Mystique. Rogue had made it abundantly clear she didn’t trust them. What would _they_ do in such an event?

Kurt sighed, forcing himself to a seated position, fumbling for his coat pockets and pulling the familiar beads into his line of sight. Sometimes he wished it was just a dream, that he would wake up and find himself back in the abandoned church. He clutched the rosary even tighter to banish those thoughts from his mind. “Lord, forgive me,” he whispered. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. 

“Can’t sleep?” A gruff voice shook him out of his thoughts. Kurt jolted before glancing up and meeting Logan’s eyes.

He had to fight an instinctive urge to teleport. How long had it been since that happened? A smile ghosted over his lips. “You either, I take it.”

Logan glowered. Kurt felt his breath catch for a moment. _No_ , he reminded himself. _He will not hurt you_.

“Well, you’re not wrong, kid,” he finally grumbled.

Kurt had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. It had been a long time since anyone had referred to him as “kid.” Still, he didn’t want Logan to think he was laughing at him.

“Something on my face?” Apparently, he’d caught himself a second too late.

“Ach, no,” he swallowed, hoping to wipe any lingering grin off his face. “Just that it has been awhile since anyone has called me…” He shook his head.

“Huh.” Logan seemed to be weighing that, regarding Kurt with a curious expression, not unlike the way Stryker had studied him, and yet completely different. At least, the urge to _run, hide, teleport out of there_ didn’t well up as strongly as before.

Logan didn’t come to sit beside him. He wouldn’t have expected it, not from what little he knew of the man. But if Logan was asking about not being able to sleep…

“What time is it?” he asked, eyes widening. He hadn’t thought it was that early. But then, he could always be mistaken. He’d been jetlagged before—relocating to Boston had been an experience—but he wasn’t sure if they’d changed time zones during their flight earlier.

He could have sworn the corner of the man’s lip curled up slightly in what might have been an attempt to bite back a laugh. “You’re askin’ me, kid? Only time I really bother with clocks is at the school.”

Kurt perked up a little. Perhaps he was also newer? “Then you are not always at the school?”

That, it seemed, was a little more than Logan wanted to talk about right now. He didn’t growl or glower this time, but answered with a stiff, “Get some sleep, kid.” and turned to go back to his tent.

For some reason, Kurt felt his heart pound at the thought of being left alone. Today, he’d spent most of his waking hours terrified of upsetting the wrong people and wishing for a moment to sit alone and breathe, and yet now, after years of living alone, he needed someone to sit with him? “Wait!” he called, fighting to keep his voice down while still managing to be heard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

For a second, he continued towards the tent as if he hadn’t heard him. Then all at once, there was a pause. Kurt held his breath, not daring to hope. With an annoyed sigh, Logan muttered something that sounded like a swear, then turned and stalked back. He didn’t take a place right next to Kurt, but picked a tree several feet away and slid down, looking as if he’d suddenly aged twenty years in that two minute span.

Neither one spoke. That was fine. He’d never been sure just what to do with small talk. He could handle the quiet, just as long as he didn’t have to be alone.

* * *

 

Once or twice, Logan had looked like he wanted to ask something, but then decided against it. Kurt couldn’t help wondering what could make him bite it back. Certainly, Logan hadn’t been very talkative in the time he’d known him, but he hadn’t minced words either. Surely he couldn’t be worried about offending him?

In any case, it didn’t seem like Logan was going to offer his question on his own. Kurt sighed, running his fingers over the beads of his rosary once more. He shifted, not enough to face Logan, but enough that he could see him without craning his neck too much. Pushing down the fear that he would be gutted for this, he offered a small smile and said, “Is there something on my face?”

Logan shot him a look, but made no move to get up or even turn his head. “Funny, kid.” He didn’t sound at all amused.

Kurt’s grin widened in mirth. Or maybe it was in overwhelming relief. Or perhaps mortal terror. He couldn't be certain tonight.

“Look, kid. If you’re expecting some kinda heart-to-heart campfire shit, I gotta tell you, I don’t spill my guts that easy.”

Kurt frowned at that. He hadn’t meant to come across as prying. He thought of several replies—“ _Of course not, I didn’t mean to intrude, I get that look a lot and I thought you might have questions about me_ ”—but they all died on the way to his throat. He sat back against the tree, looking straight ahead and folding his hands over his knees. That first impression onboard the _Blackbird_ had cost him this time, he supposed. But then Rogue had said he took awhile to warm up to people, so perhaps he could be allowed to hope.

“Rogue chatted you up earlier?” It was almost a question, but not really a question. The inflection rose, but there was no uncertainty behind it.

Kurt blinked, almost failing to register that the question was meant for him. It took a moment to find his voice—as if he could actually misplace it, instead of just figuratively. “Yes, she has been very kind to me.” He’d been a little worried after their first encounter on the _Blackbird_ , uncertain if the grimace she’d directed his way was one of disgust or just general annoyance. He’d worried even more after breaking her fall in the near plane-crash—he’d been afraid to let go for fear that she would somehow be pulled back outside, but it didn’t change the fact that most people wouldn’t have appreciated the contact. “I am extremely thankful for that.”

“Yeah…kid’s been through a lot. I’d rather not put her through any more if I can help it.” There was no change in the emotion behind those words, but if that wasn’t a thinly-veiled “if you do anything to hurt her,” Kurt didn’t know what was.

“Nor I.” It was all he could think of to respond.

“’Course, with those two jokers hangin’ around…” Logan grimaced as if remembering a particularly unpleasant scent.

“You do not trust them?” Kurt inclined his head towards the older man. Rogue had said just as much, and he admitted he didn’t fully understand the situation, or Rogue’s abilities. But if she had had his thoughts in her mind…

Logan seemed to run through several responses before settling on one. “And you do?”

He had to think about that one. On one had, Mystique’s declaration that mutantkind shouldn’t have to hide had struck a chord with him. On the other, he’d heard about her and Magneto’s philosophy of mutant supremacy, and that terrified him—both the thought itself, and the fear of the retribution it would bring.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. He knew he shouldn’t, no matter how much he wished he could.

“What, you wouldn’t happen to have any ties to her, would you?” There it was. It was delivered in such a noncommittal manner, but it must have been the question he’d wanted to ask. Or perhaps one of them.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand?”

That seemed to fluster him a bit. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to have to voice exactly what he wanted to say. “Nothing. Just that you’re…and she’s…”

Kurt’s grin returned. “Blue? Yes, I admit it surprised me at first. I hate to disappoint, but I’ve never met her before tonight.”

Logan grunted. “Figures. So the marks have nothing to do with each other either, I s'pose.”

Kurt had to fight not to yank up the collar to his shirt, knowing from experience it would just call more attention to the scars, and swallowing back the spike of panic the remark sent through him. 

For all his gruffness, Logan seemed to recognize he’d overstepped. “Forget I said anything.” He had his secrets, he figured the kid was entitled to his. “You never met her before today. That’s all I needed to know.”

Kurt swallowed in relief, before forcing out words which were much shakier than he’d have liked. “Why? Were you hoping for something else?” Logan blinked at him like he'd grown three heads.

“It’s nothing, kid. Get some sleep.” He made no move to get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I started getting into the Claremont-era comics, one thing that struck me was the impressive lack of Nightcrawler and Wolverine interaction in the film series. Guess we can't have Logan making any friends and ruining his loner image? But I thought I would try my hand at this. 
> 
> I'm hoping I've kept Logan reasonably distant as he would be in this point. His curiosity regarding Kurt's resemblance to Mystique is pulled from the X2 Novelization, though he never asks Kurt about it, and when he speaks to Jean, it sounds more like a direct assumption.
> 
> I'm hoping to include more of Ororo's perspective in the next part. I haven't written through her eyes as much, but I hope I can do her justice.


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of their mission to the Alkali Lake site, Ororo Munroe rises before the team, and finds herself with a little extra time for reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meine Damen und Herren, mesdames et messieurs, ladies...and gentlemen, I live! The chapter took a little longer than I was anticipating and only a small part of that was due to the wi-fi fritzing out. In any event, I hope you will enjoy the first chapter in this work from Ororo's perspective. She's quite enjoyable to write, although she gives me considerably more difficulty than I remembered.

Ororo Munroe had always been an early riser. Part of it was because of her mutant gifts making her more sensitive to the changes in the weather, but she had always enjoyed rising with or before the sun. It gave her time to think, to be up and about before she had to put on her teacher persona for the students at the Xavier Institute, but beyond that, why shouldn’t she enjoy the early morning weather?

Of course, this morning, there was another aspect to it. She and a small party of the escaped X-Men would journey to Alkali Lake today to rescue the students who had been captured in the invasion of their school. Outwardly, if anyone asked, she would appear calm, the picture of confidence, having no doubts as to whether their mission would succeed. But if she was honest with herself, she didn’t know what would be in store for them at Stryker’s base. It should have been an easy in and out, but from what Jean had gleaned from Kurt’s memories, these people knew who they were going after, had tricks to interfere with a mutant’s gifts.

 _On top of that, why didn’t the security system go off?_ That question had plagued Ororo since she first learned of what happened. Professor Xavier may have been an idealist, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. Although he had hoped he’d never have to use it, he and Hank McCoy had devised a security system which could repel intruders before any incident could occur. Although Ororo didn’t understand everything about how it worked, she at least understood that it _should_ have guarded all points of entry. Stryker’s troops shouldn’t have been able to get through the front gate, let alone into the students’ quarters. Yet somehow the unthinkable had happened. If Logan hadn’t been there…

It was times like this that she almost wished she had been born a telepath. At least then she could try to see if anyone escaped. Logan didn’t know how many had gotten out. Rogue knew who she had last seen before she went back for him, but nothing beyond that. Bobby was certain that Peter Rasputin and Kitty Pryde had escaped, although he couldn’t be sure of why, and John, petulant as ever, couldn’t give an answer one way or another. Magneto and Mystique hadn’t been there, but even so, they had their own agenda, and Storm would not ask for empathy from them. Jean didn't dare check telepathically for fear of what she would find.

She inhaled through her nose and blew it all out through her mouth, moving in a familiar sequence of exercises. It would be fine. The kids would be fine. She did not particularly trust Stryker _not_ to start experimenting on the children, but she had to tell herself things would be fine. Jean needed her to be strong right now.

Jean had been struggling for awhile now, her powers flickering in and out with little to no warning. Sometimes, like on the _Blackbird_ just last evening, she would almost seem to enter a trance, and would come out of it badly shaken. She wouldn't tell anyone what happened during these episodes, and when Ororo or anyone else asked, she would deny it first and then lie if that failed. Whatever was happening, Jean needed Storm to be strong for her.

She twisted a bit more, enjoying the stretch along her back. The solitary exercises helped clear her mind and ease the tension in her body. Today, more than any day, she needed that.

Yet already, even with her exercises, it had been so easy to let her mind wander back to her concerns. Well, a part of her reasoned, that was normal enough. There was a lot to be concerned about. Her natural tendency was to have everything in order, to know where everything was at all times. With this, there were too many loose variables, too many for her to account for alone--which she was having to do--and too few that fit under things that flowed and things she could just sense, like the weather.

But Ororo Munroe was nothing if not a fighter. She would be fine. She would not let this beat her today.

It wouldn't be that easy, of course. It never was. But she would manage it. She always had.

She uncurled from her position, eyes snapping up to meet yellow embedded in blue.

Kurt.

How long had he been watching? Better yet, how long had he been there without her noticing?

Kurt seemed to recognize the sheer awkwardness of the situation, immediately ducking his head and grabbing at his collar. Ororo swallowed back her own embarrassment, choosing to complete her stretch before standing up, intent on finishing with dignity.

Yet some irrational part of her brain made her cock a brow with a light smirk. “Did you want to join me?” The words were out before she had time to process them.

Kurt's jaw dropped, though in the short time she’d known him, she could guess it was out of shock that _he_ was being invited more than that she had asked. He sat there for a moment, clearly processing her request. Perhaps he expected she would retract it, claim it was a joke. He’d been wary of the others at first. Maybe she was asking too much too soon. Ororo made to stand up, and in that instant, Kurt was beside her, easily lowering himself into a mirror of her position. She cocked an eyebrow, allowing a brief smile to ghost across her lips.

She continued her series with her blue reflection beside her. He didn't move to speak, and neither did she.

When the rest of their party awoke, she would be Ororo the teacher, she would be Storm, the pillar of strength and weather witch of the X-Men. But for now, for the next two hours, she would simply be Ororo Munroe, stretching her limbs and sharing her world with a newcomer she had found in the attic of a church. And oddly enough, that was just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the other prompts are all things that will have to be filled as taking place after the mission. My question is whether I should post the chapters in prompt order, knowing they will be somewhat anachronistic at times, or post them in chronological order, knowing that they will not strictly follow the prompt. At the same time, I've already diverted a bit with the last chapter, so...


	4. Valley of the Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Alkali Lake, Storm forces herself to push on. The students need her, the team needs her. And though the ghost of a friend hangs over her, she cannot bring herself to grieve. Spoilers for X2. Warning for allusions to canon character death.

         The mission had not gone as expected. They had recovered the students, yes, but at a great price. In some ways, Storm supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. The possibility of things going wrong was something she had always prepared for since day one. As much as he had wished it never to be the case, Professor Xavier had repeatedly emphasized that sometimes, regardless of how much you had prepared, sometimes things didn’t work out. Sometimes you couldn’t save everyone, or the people chose to see you as the villain, or you lost one of your own. Storm understood that.

            And yet there was such a difference between knowing it _could_ happen and having it happen.

            It wasn’t as if she had never lost teammates before. In fact, it wasn’t too long after her first mission that John Proudstar had died holding off an anti-mutant extremist whose name she had chosen not to remember. Time had never really healed that wound, but on some level, she supposed that the extra caution and training they had employed since then would somehow stop it from happening again. It hadn’t. Jean was not their first loss since John. It wasn't right to act like she was.

            She knew at least part of it was because of how close she had been with Jean, how even as a teenager still scared of her budding powers, Jean had gone out of her way to welcome Ororo, to help her adjust to Westchester as easily as possible. And yet it felt wrong to say this, as if it somehow made Jean’s passing worse than the others. She could tell herself it was just because Jean’s was so recent. She knew that was a lie.

            But she couldn’t let herself dwell on that for long. The students needed her to be Ororo Munroe, the teacher and the steady point while everything else was upside down. (But how much had that helped Jean?) She would have to find a way to cover her classes. If Scott couldn’t pull himself together, she’d have to find a way to cover his, too. A part of her wondered if she could ask Logan to cover some, but he would be grieving, too, even if he didn’t show it. Rogue had been closest to Jean, and she’d have to give her time to collect herself, and on top of that, she wasn’t sure if the Professor would allow her to appoint a teenager who had just graduated. And Kurt was completely out of the question. He hadn’t asked to be a part of this (even if he would say he was already implicated before she showed up) and after the children’s reactions when he came to rescue them, she didn’t want to put him through that so soon if the others reacted similarly.

            The others. She tightened her grip on the yoke of the  _Blackbird_  and bit the inside of her cheek. They still didn’t know how many had made it out. Possibly Peter Rasputin. Possibly Kitty Pryde. Possibly whoever was with them. Possibly. Maybe all of them had made it out. Yet that seemed so stupidly optimistic now. She couldn’t let herself hope only to have it dashed again.

            Somewhere in the distance, she felt a presence shifting beside her. No, wait. That wasn’t right. They couldn’t be both at once. She shook her head. She was relying too much on the autopilot. She needed to focus.

            “Are you…are you all right?” the soft, accented voice barely registered through the fog. Yet even then, she could hear the question in the words, as if it wasn’t the right thing to say, but he didn’t know how else to say it.

            “I’ll be fine.” She answered, hating how clipped her voice had sounded.

            She half expected a flinch. Instead, Kurt crawled into the co-pilot’s seat, turning towards her with a confused frown. “That is not what I meant.”

            She swallowed. _Not now. Don’t do this now_. “But it is what I’m answering. I’ll be fine.”

            He looked away, fighting not to bite at his lip. He knew he was going to overstep with this. “You will be. But you are not now?”

            She gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Don’t do this now,” she said it out loud this time, her voice strained.

            For a moment, he looked like he might try to argue. Eyes widened, shoulders tensed. But then he simply nodded, whispering something in German that sounded like an apology. He stood and turned to leave, but then, when he had almost gone, he stopped and turned back to her, one hand still on the threshold. “Is it all right if I stay here with you for a minute?”

            She wanted to protest, to say that she needed to be alone (as much good as _that_ had done for her these past minutes). Yet there was just enough of a pleading note in his voice to make it clear this was as much for him as for her. He didn’t know how to feel, how much he had any right to feel. Maybe he didn’t want to face the students, having arrived so close to losing Jean. Rogue had already implied he thought Logan disliked him. And yet, as much as she could pretend she was fine alone with her thoughts, she didn’t want to face them by herself, didn’t want to turn to her right expecting Jean and finding no one (she had just watched her die, how could she let herself believe that?).

            “Sure, Kurt,” she tried to let some of the tension drain from her voice. “That’d be fine.”

            He settled quietly back into the seat, almost silent save for the occasional flicking of his tail.

            It was strange. She had almost expected that to annoy her. Yet it helped to remind her that he wasn’t Jean, helped her not to turn to an empty seat.

            He wasn’t Jean. Jean was gone. Why couldn’t that set into her brain? She’d _watched her die_. She’d _known_ she wasn’t there when they spoke to the President. There was _no reason_ to believe Jean might appear again.

            She swallowed. She was _not_ about to let herself go down this road again. Not with Kurt right there. Not having done this almost _every minute_ since they had left. She forced tense lips to move. “Kurt?”

            “Ja?” That note of concern was back. 

            Storm didn’t want to talk. There was no way she could do that right now, even if she wanted to, even if she _could_ have just been Ororo Munroe and not the teacher, not the weather witch of the X-Men. But she needed some kind of noise, something to keep Jean's voice and her own racing thoughts out of her head. “You can pray if you want.”

            His head tilted slightly, brows lifting as if she had just asked something very inappropriate. “But I hadn’t thought you…” he stopped, as if he suddenly found it every bit as inappropriate to assume.

            “I’m not,” she answered. “But I don’t mind it. It helps you, doesn’t it?”

            He nodded, swallowing once. Then, averting his eyes, he reached to the pocket where he kept his Rosary. He paused once, as if he expected her to change her mind. When she made no move to stop him, he bowed his head and began his whispered prayers. Slowly, softly, as if he didn't dare speak any louder.

            Storm exhaled, almost too softly even for herself to hear. His voice was not Jean’s. It was not her own thoughts. She would be fine.

            He wasn’t Jean. She would be fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Proudstar, codenamed Thunderbird, is a character from the early Chris Claremont-era X-Men comics, who died trying to stop Count Nefaria from escaping. I wasn't sure how he would be adapted to the film, so I opted to allude to Nefaria as simply "an anti-mutant extremist," since that seemed easy enough to fit into the movieverse. Granted, Nightcrawler was in that issue so obviously a lot of things would be different in this hypothetical movieverse version.
> 
> It feels very different writing Ororo and Kurt (but especially Ororo) in this chapter compared to the previous ones. I hadn't intended to focus on the death of Jean Grey initially, but as opposed to the drawings where I can have any timeline and skip anywhere between them, it felt inappropriate to waltz straight past that and continue with the original prompts. Not to mention we didn't really get to see Storm's reaction to it as much in the movie, so although she is a very private person with her emotions, I wanted to give her that.
> 
> At some point, I will get to Day 3, but maybe not in order and maybe in awhile.


	5. Valley of the Shadow (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Alkali Lake, the remaining X-Men try to regroup and recover the students who escaped from Stryker's raid on the school, coming to terms with what's lost, and picking up the pieces of what's left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for depictions of Senator Kelly's death from the first movie, as well as mild descriptions of the ways in which some of Stryker's men died.

The school was a warzone. Even from the outside, they could see where glass had been shattered and doors kicked in. It wouldn’t be safe to bring the students back just yet, but they needed to search the school and make sure no one had hidden or been trapped inside. Professor Xavier hadn’t found anyone with his telepathy, but he was still weakened from his time attached to Cerebro's dark copy, and couldn’t sense well enough to be sure, so Storm and Logan had volunteered to go inside.

Kurt had been uncertain of whether or not he should follow, but had initially volunteered himself as part of the search party. “I could help you search for them, or if anyone is trapped, I could…” he had started. “Ach, but then they do not know me, and that might make things worse…” He had glanced back to the Professor and the kids, and to Scott, who was still slumped in a corner, refusing to look at anyone. He had turned back to Ororo then, his expression sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Even through the fog she fought to push back, Ororo felt a brow starting to quirk. It was an expression he’d used several times since they’d met, and she was quickly finding she didn’t always understand when and how he used it. Strange, when it was in plain English. But she could ask about that later. “No, I…” she paused, checking her phrasing. “I didn’t think it was a bad idea. Actually, could you stay with the kids? We don’t know what’s in there and if things go south…”

“I should be here to get them out.” Kurt’s expression turned serious, his tail suddenly very stiff in its arch. “Ja, I will do that.”

Ororo offered a small smile in gratitude, and then turned and quickly led Logan into the school. How ironic that before, she had thought he would come here to sort things out.

* * *

 

Now, she was especially glad she hadn’t taken him up on his initial offer to come with them. She wouldn’t have wanted him to see the wreckage, the bodies of nameless agents slashed and bleeding on the ground. He didn’t need to be exposed to any more of that than necessary, especially with his own abduction—from what…from what Jean had said, probably at the hands of men like these, if not some of these very people. She swallowed hard and clenched her jaw at the thought of these… _agents_ (not _humans_ , she would not let herself say _humans_ ) smashing through the glass, armed to hunt _children_ in the night, like monsters in a twisted bedtime story. Yet unlike the monsters, they genuinely believed they were right, that these kids had been the monsters simply for being born different.

“I’ll take the common areas and all the stuff that way.” Logan’s voice was strangely devoid of emotion. “You wanna start with the kids’ rooms and then head over to Cerebro? Damn son of a bitch said he stripped it down, but it couldn’t hurt to see if anything’s left over.”

“We’ll reconvene in the Professor’s office.” Strange, her own voice failed to reflect the anxiety and bile and growing need to _burn_ something building in her stomach. She turned and started off, keeping her eyes forward so as not to see Logan’s. Or not to let him see hers.

* * *

 

“Kitty!” she called. “Peter! Jones?” She tried to focus on who else might have gotten out, though all the other names she could come up with were the ones who’d been recovered when they stormed Alkali Lake. There _had_ been children who had escaped. They _hadn’t_ all been there in Stryker’s prison cells. They _had_ to be alive, yet she couldn’t shake the fear that she would find a child’s body on the floor of the students’ quarters.

She turned a corner and bit her lip to stifle a gasp. Not a student. Another agent. Logan’s handiwork, by the look of the corpse. The gun lay just a few feet from the body. Storm clenched her fist and exhaled through her nose. She hated these men. She hated them.

She made her way into Kitty’s room, flattening herself to the floor to check under the bed, just in case she or one of the youngest kids was hiding beneath it. No one. She wished she knew whether to be relieved or to feel worse.

The rest of the rooms yielded similar results. Sometimes an agent’s body sprawled across the floor, at least one of whom looked like he’d run into Peter in his Colossus form. She hoped he wasn’t feeling too guilty about that. She knew that if Peter had felt the need to use lethal force, it was probably his only option in that moment.

* * *

She had steeled her resolve by the time she got to the medical wing. If none of the students were in their quarters, or the safe rooms, then unless Logan had found someone, it wasn’t likely anyone was here. Still, the medical wards, stripped of equipment—they had stolen from their labs like common burglars—had an eerie vibe about them. The lights were dim and only half-working. They must have sabotaged the generator. Though why they would do that made no sense. If they wanted to kill the students they couldn’t capture—and she wouldn’t put it past them—why not just blow up the school? Maybe they had to shut it down to get to Cerebro? She wasn’t sure.

She stopped as she entered an examination room. Ah. She knew this one very well. She had stood there next to Senator Kelly in his final moments, gripping a hand that was more liquid than flesh.

_“Do you hate normal people?” he asked._

_She swallowed back venom and forced herself to answer. “Sometimes.” Somehow, it became easier not to hate while he was dying._

_“Why?” she didn’t know what he meant by that. Did he genuinely care what a mutant like herself thought, or was he simply looking for justification?_

_“I suppose…I’m afraid of them.” It wasn’t like his knowing would hurt anything. Not now._

_“Well, I think you’ve got one less…” His throat struggled to form the words. She already knew what was happening. Perhaps he did, too. “Person to…be afraid of…” An ironic comment on his own mortality? Or had he truly believed he might help if he survived?_

_Then all at once, his lungs gurgled and his body turned to water, yet try as she might, she couldn’t break his grip in that terrible second. Her throat closed, but when the end had passed, she turned and ran._

Storm shook herself from the memory. Had it really been two years since then? It had seemed like so much longer, at least until she had returned here.

* * *

 

She made her way to Cerebro, still calling for the students where she dared. She was the weather witch of the X-Men. She would not be afraid of the bodies. Not that she had encountered many once she’d left the students’ wing.

The door had been forced open, metal gnarled and twisted in ways she wouldn’t have thought possible for anyone but Magneto. She clenched her jaw at the memory of his betrayal. She had expected it, of course, but with the Professor’s bewildering belief in his better nature, she supposed there were lows she had assumed even _he_ wouldn’t sink to. Well, now she knew better.

Cerebro herself was a desolate sight. All but the barest framework had been stripped away, some more clumsily than others. She didn’t know why she expected care from pilferers and would-be child-killers.

There was nothing there. No one would hide inside Cerebro’s metallic cortex, let alone a frightened child. Cerebro had always held an element of fear for the youngest members, as if it had a mind of its own and could do away with anyone who didn’t belong there. Many of them never fully outgrew that line of thinking. Yet she forced her body to walk, an almost mechanical motion, down the narrow pathway and to the heart of the machine.

She felt static build behind her fingertips and forced it back as she slumped forward, bracing herself against Cerebro’s ruined body. She never lost her footing, and yet it felt like the world was ripped out from under her. The loss had never been anything but real to her, but to see Cerebro stripped down to this…they had lost their school, their haven, their home. _They had lost Jean_ , and yet all they had to show for it was the barest _shred_ of hope that the President might influence things so they—so Kurt—wouldn’t have to live as a fugitive. But it wouldn’t be that easy—if easy was the word for that. People would still find ways to point fingers. They would still try to say that the reversal on the Mutant Registration Act and the White House Assassin were propaganda tricks to fulfill some mutant agenda. As if being _allowed to exist_ was some kind of dark scheme.

“How do you manage to pity them?” she whispered, though he was not there to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little surprised to have managed two chapters in the same week. A part of me had wanted to move on from the aftermath of X2, but it seems the characters aren't quite ready for that just yet.


	6. Valley of the Shadow (part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ororo and Logan checking the school for survivors (or are they checking for additional casualties?) Kurt waits back in the jet, trying to find how he is allowed to feel, and where his place is in everything.

He had watched until Ororo and Logan had disappeared into the school. Well, not quite a typical school. It had struck him almost immediately that it really looked much more like a large mansion, and that he felt very out of place if he hadn’t already. He hung back near the opening they had left through, unsure of whether he should sit and if so, where.

Probably he shouldn’t stand around by the open door, as if he was expecting something to happen. He wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he did, but it was better if the students didn’t think that.

There was a strange numbness over everyone within the _Blackbird_ , one that had probably been there since they’d left Alkali Lake. Kurt wished he knew what he should do or say, or even what he should _feel_ , for that matter. While he couldn’t deny that he felt grief for the death of Jean Grey, he didn’t have the same connection to her that the others did. He hadn’t been her student, as they had, or her teacher, as Professor Xavier had. He had not loved her as Logan and Scott presumably had, and though he might have called her a friend, he had not known her as well as Ororo had. Still, he could remember the gratitude he felt when she and Ororo had chosen to believe him instead of writing him off as a demonic assassin, and she had even helped with the bullet wound in his arm. He could recall her regret at having to probe through his memories and how she had checked on him repeatedly after the fact, first verbally, and later telepathically.

But he could also remember the force of her willpower stopping his teleportation as she died saving them from the flood. There were many things he wasn't sure of, but this, he knew for certain. When Logan had ordered him to get her out of there, Kurt had felt her stopping him. It didn’t make sense. She had known what her team was capable of, but had actively prevented them from aiding her in the end. At least, that was how it had seemed to him. Dear God, he hoped he was wrong.

“You know you don’t have to guard the door, right?” Kurt’s head whipped around in the direction of Rogue’s voice. “If something happens, I can borrow some of your power. Make a short-term second teleporter.”

Her voice didn’t carry a lot of emotion, and her eyes didn’t meet his as she spoke. She looked like she was simultaneously trying to lean against the blond-haired boy—Bobby, if he remembered correctly—for comfort, and pull away. She was every bit as lost as he was.

He nodded, a mechanical motion, and whispered a thank you. He turned and began searching for an empty seat, limbs still moving as if detached. A young boy who sat tight-lipped, legs pulled close in the seat in front of him, stared until he turned to him, tilting his head in silent questioning. The boy began to motion him over with a finger, patting the spot next to him as if he was afraid to make too much noise. Kurt moved over to him and sat down.

The boy uncurled from around himself, but didn’t move to sit any closer or farther from him. _Well, it is a start_ , some small, ironic part of him thought. It was certainly an improvement over screaming and cowering in fear. That…that had stung more than he had expected. He was used to it outside of the circus. He wasn’t sure why it should be different among other mutants.

He copied the boy’s position for a moment, staring ahead in silence. It was probably best to keep quiet. The Professor was still very reticent, visibly exhausted from his time in Stryker’s machine. It was not a situation Kurt envied, his own experiences all too recent and all too present in his mind. Kurt shuddered, his hand moving to the new scar at the back of his neck before he could stop himself, as if he suddenly needed to prove it _had_ been the influence of the serum and not just him. He could feel his breathing quicken the slightest bit. It had been a long time since he’d worried he would go bad. Why did it have to come back _now_ of all times?

He felt a small hand over his and blinked twice, shaking his head and taking a moment to slow his breathing before turning to the boy. With a slight smile, he swallowed and forced himself to reach for his Rosary instead of the scar. “Hello,” he spoke to the boy. “What is your name?”

The child simply blinked up at him, as if he didn’t understand. Ah. Perhaps Kurt had spoken where he wasn’t supposed to. Yes, he supposed he should have understood that. But then, it might also have been his accent making it difficult to tell what he was saying. He’d lost some of his English in the years he’d lived alone, he was sure.

“Artie doesn’t talk,” an Asian teenager spoke. She had been one of the older students he and Ororo had rescued. She’d thrown her arm up between Kurt and the younger students, but she had also helped him position the kids to teleport them out, once she understood what was happening. Jubilation, wasn’t that her name?

“Ah,” Kurt answered. “I see. Artie, is it? And what might your gift be?”

The boy’s lip twitched in a way that might have been a smile. Then all at once, his expression flattened and he stuck out his tongue at him. Kurt was almost shocked by this until he noticed the boy’s tongue was forked and blue.

“Ah, so I see.” Kurt had to fight down a light laugh as Rogue gave an indignant, “Artie! Be nice!” Artie rolled his eyes, but pulled his tongue back into his mouth. It probably wouldn’t do to encourage that. Even if Kurt himself would have done so at his age.

“I have also been working with him on communication.” Professor Xavier’s voice sounded impossibly tired. “He is a bit unsure of himself, but the boy possesses considerable telepathy.”

Artie turned to the Professor, half-glaring as if he’d been betrayed.

“Yes, well. Getting him to _use_ that talent is often another matter entirely.”

The atmosphere of in the jet hadn’t been exactly light, but with the silence returning, Kurt was suddenly aware that it had indeed brightened considerably just moments ago. That fear that he was about to do something wrong bubbled up again, but he swallowed it back and nudged Artie’s shoulder.

“I don’t think that is anything to be ashamed of,” he said. “When I first began to teleport, I was not very good at it. I could not go very far or take anyone with me.” Or anything including the clothes on his back, but that was better left unsaid.

Artie looked skeptical, eyes narrowing as if to say, “You grown-ups always say that kinda thing.”

“But it is true,” Kurt continued. “I don’t think any of us start—” he paused. There were some who might have. “ _Very few_ of us started anywhere near what you see today,” he amended.

Artie’s gaze shifted towards the back of the jet, and for a moment, Kurt thought he meant to indicate Scott. But then he turned back towards the controls and the nose of it. Ah. He felt the barest hint of a suggestion tugging at his mind, weaker than Jean Grey’s had been. 

He hesitated a moment before answering, keeping his voice low in hopes that only Artie would hear. “Yes,” he whispered. “Even _Doktor_ Grey.”

He half-expected someone to snap at him for bringing her up so soon. If not one of the students, then Scott, who would have had every right to be angry over it. But though a pang shot through the group, no one spoke.

A moment later, Artie sagged against him, eyes staring, and grabbed onto one of the folds of his coat. When his momentary surprise had passed, Kurt allowed himself to sit back against the wall of the jet, too, one hand tentatively over the boy’s shoulder, the other running almost mindlessly over the beads of his Rosary. Ororo and Logan would be back soon, he thought, praying silently they would have nothing worse to report.

He wished he knew what more he should do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of "Valley of the Shadow." While the next few chapters will still deal with the aftermath/ between the scene at the White House and the ending of X2, I do not intend for them to be as bleak as this. I did still want to deal with some of the immediate ramifications of X2 and the effects the brainwashing and/or abduction had on those who experienced it. While I would like to deal with Scott's grief as well, I also feel like he needs a little more time so he can be a bit more responsive during that scene.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure why Artie ended up getting so much page time in this, but in hindsight, he's one of those characters who makes me wish that filler series had existed way back when. Also, sometimes it's nice to have these minor guys around to get the main mutants out of their own heads. Artie's telepathy and muteness are two details I found while perusing the X-Men movie wikipedia pages for mutants who had more physically noticeable mutations. A lot of his personality here is made up of inferences based on his scenes in the movie as well as in the novelization (which has basically become my best friend for a basis to flesh things out). 
> 
> If I can fit them in, I would definitely love to give characters like Jubilee some more page time as well. As much as I love Kurt, Storm, Logan & Co., I think a big part of the X-Men has always been the interpersonal relationships, and I've always wanted to see more of how they interact with everyone.


	7. The Safehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the abducted students recovered and the safety of the school still uncertain, the best option is to meet up with the rest of the students in the designated safe house. With everything that has happened, it seems everyone needs a moment to stop and recover.

Ororo and Logan returned from inside the school. Neither had anything to report, but both looked considerably unsettled. None of the students seemed to pick up on it. It was probably better not to say anything while they were in earshot, then.

Professor Xavier had decided that although the school was unoccupied, it would still be best to remain at the safehouse after retrieving the remaining students. This way, they could wait out anyone who had worked for Stryker and might be out for revenge, as well as give everyone some time to heal before attempting to return to their everyday life.

Artie had remained latched onto Kurt’s coat for the remainder of the ride. Logan had commented on it with a raised eyebrow and a muttered, “Why am I not surprised?” Though from where they were sitting, it was obvious he’d bitten the inside of his lip to hold back an amused smirk. He was fairly certain Artie had stuck his tongue out in response, but refrained from checking. If even Rogue, who wasn’t exactly a stickler for rules herself from what he knew of her, if even she had scolded him for it, clearly it was something he wasn’t allowed to do. Well, Kurt figured, if he didn’t see anything, he wouldn’t have to say anything.

* * *

 

They touched down some ways away from the safehouse. This made sense, although Kurt had to admit he hadn’t thought of it himself. Then again, he’d never exactly flown in on a _jet_ to any of his hiding spots, or gone there with more than one or two others.

Once they had hidden the _Blackbird_ , Ororo explained that they would walk the rest of the way. The older students and those who were uninjured would help those who were or who were younger. Then she turned to Kurt. “Can I ask you to help me with the Professor again?” Her eyebrows scrunched the slightest bit in sympathy. She had seen the discomfort it caused him to have to run fully upright.

He gave the slightest smile in return. “Of course.”

Ororo returned his smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Of course, she had been far more recently acquainted with the damages wrought by Stryker’s team.

She knelt down in front of Kurt’s clingy new shadow. “Artie,” she spoke quietly. “Can I ask you to let go of Kurt for a minute while we get Professor Xavier moved to the safehouse? You can still walk with him if he says it’s okay, but he’s going to trip if you hang onto him like that.”

Kurt didn’t hear any response, but based on Ororo’s reaction, he hadn’t exactly been pleased by the idea. “If you really need to, you can ask Logan. But I need Kurt to have both hands right now.”

Artie huffed, then turned his gaze up to Kurt, silently pleading him to say otherwise. He sighed, adopting an expression that he hoped came across as a rueful smile, rather than a grimace. “She is right, Artie. If you want to walk with me, though, I don’t see any problem with it.” A part of him hoped he would decide to walk with Logan instead. He wanted to check on the Professor and Ororo, but he didn’t think she would say if one of their youngest students was right next to them, and he couldn’t be sure about the Professor, either.

The boy stared for a minute, hardly blinking. Then, with a shrug, he turned and ran toward Jubilation and Rogue. Ororo shook her head. “That boy…” she muttered.

* * *

 

Scott had still not moved to get up when Kurt and Ororo returned to the _Blackbird_ for Professor Xavier. Kurt paused, looking to Ororo and back to Scott. “Could you get Charles for me, Kurt?” she asked, her tone unwavering. “I’m going to talk to Scott for a moment.”

He nodded, hoping the tension releasing from his figure wasn’t too obvious, especially for Scott. He knew that right now, he’d likely say the wrong thing and make him shut down even more, _especially_ if Scott had come to associate him with Jean’s loss. Regardless, it was probably better to have someone he knew well.

Kurt forcibly averted his eyes to reduce the temptation to listen in, moving up the ramp and up to the Professor’s seat.

“Herr Professor?” he said.

Professor Xavier blinked once before turning his eyes from the horizon. He could guess what he had imagined just moments ago. “Ah, yes,” he said. “I suppose it’s time to go.”

“Ja,” he nodded. “Ororo had said you would need help…?”

The older man looked down at his legs, then back up at Kurt. “Why, yes. It would appear so.” His tone was somber, but there was the slightest upward tilt of his mouth that almost reached his eyes. So it was a joke, or at least an attempt at one?

Kurt started to move to lift him, but then stopped himself. “How is it best to… Back at the lake, things were coming down and I was in a rush so I didn’t… Ach…” He almost rubbed at the back of his neck, but stopped himself and grabbed his coat collar instead. Best not to repeat certain moments right now.

Professor Xavier smiled, the very picture of patience. “Yes, it was quite hectic.” How he could manage to sound so detached when just moments before… “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said. The smile never left his face, yet the twinkle in his eye had faded away.

Kurt’s jaw dropped open.

“My apologies. As a telepath, that happens a lot.” Xavier gave a placating smile. “Now, if you would come here, I can direct you.”

Whatever Ororo had said to Scott, he sighed once, then pushed himself up against the panels of the wall. He swayed, unsteady after so long sitting curled in on himself. But when she offered him a hand, he waved her off, a clumsy, almost drunken motion, and staggered outside.

She hid her dismay, but not quite fast enough to disguise that it had been there. “Well,” she said, turning to Kurt and Xavier. “I suppose it’s time to go.”

* * *

 

The walk to the safehouse was a silent one. Though Kurt had wanted to ask after the Professor and Ororo, there was an air of unease over everyone, which he understood all too well. The house may have been safe, but there was no certainty in the route. Even if there had been, Kurt could remember his own shock on being hit with the shot of mace, terror spiking as he’d realized he never noticed his pursuers before. Just because they couldn’t see them, it didn’t guarantee that no one was there. He took a breath, a quick assurance that his airways were clear. Yes, it was best to keep very quiet.

Logan had the same idea, so it seemed. He stalked a ways away from the group, sometimes beside them, sometimes behind them, eyes roaming for any sign of danger. He’d kept his claws sheathed for the time being, but his fists were clenched in a way that made it clear he expected to use them at any time.

That air of caution extended to everyone in their group. Rogue had removed her glove from the hand that wasn’t steadying Artie, and she, Bobby, and even Jubilation had almost formed a shield around the youngest children. Even Scott, still half-numbed with his grief, kept a hand near his visor as he scanned every shaded area. He had no doubt Storm would be ready if they were ambushed, though he had no desire to test it. Silently, he sent up a prayer to spare them from any more surprises that day.

* * *

 

When they reached the safehouse, Ororo went ahead of them to open the door. There was a low whisper from the other side. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary house, small enough that Kurt had to admit he wasn’t sure how they would all fit, especially if many students had escaped. It was near the end of a street next to the forest they had trekked through, but still near enough to the surrounding neighborhood that you would almost have to know there were mutants there before you could suspect it.

She returned and signaled for them to follow her. The students were wary at first, but perked up when they saw the tall boy standing by the doorway. The younger girl standing to his side was initially sullen, but tried to hide the way her face lit up upon seeing Bobby, Rogue, and Jubilation. She trailed after them as they went towards what Kurt could only assume were sleeping quarters.

“I didn’t think they would’ve gotten you,” she said.

“They didn’t.” Rogue answered. “Bobby and I were with Logan.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Anyone tried to get you or him and you’d, like…”

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared down the hallway. Professor Xavier told Kurt to help him into one of the chairs, which he did, feeling a pop in his spine as he straightened out afterwards.

Logan stood back by the door for a moment, still surveying the path they’d come up as if he felt something wrong, but he couldn’t quite identify what. Kurt was about to get his attention when the Professor spoke up. “Come away from the door, Logan. There’s no one there.”

Logan stiffened as if to say, “You don’t know that,” but he turned away and closed the door, all the same. He stalked past them with an unreadable expression. Kurt started to follow after him, but the Professor called out, “Let him alone, Kurt. He needs some time on his own, right now.”

That made sense. When he’d spoken with Logan before, the man hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his own information, and although he’d been interested in Kurt’s possible connections to Mystique, when he’d had to ask directly, he’d sputtered as if flabbergasted by the idea that Kurt _wouldn’t_ be uncomfortable being asked. It would make sense that he might see it as an intrusion if Kurt came barging in, wanting to talk about feelings or the like. What was it he had said? _I don’t do that heart-to-heart campfire shit_? Something along those lines.

“Besides,” Professor Xavier continued, “I don’t think we’ve properly met. I thought I might take advantage of this moment alone to do so.” He extended a hand. “I’m Charles Xavier, professor and headmaster of the School for Gifted Youngsters. Though I’m sure you knew that.” He smiled as Kurt took his hand, allowing him to maneuver his three fingers around Xavier’s five. “And you are?”

For the first time since this morning (was it still the same day as before?), Kurt felt a sense of normalcy. A tentative one, barely held together by the Professor’s efforts, but it was there nonetheless. “Kurt Wagner.” He allowed a smile to ghost across his lips as well. “But in the Munich Circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

Xavier’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “A circus performer? How very interesting. And what did you do in the circus?”

At the edge of his mind, Kurt felt a sense that he was doing something wrong, as if they shouldn’t be talking about all this right now. But he pushed it down and began to speak. “I was an acrobat, a trapeze artist with…”

* * *

 

He’d gone through a few different stories of his exploits at the circus. Some were still a little raw for comfort, but the Professor had assured him he could skip over any he wasn’t comfortable sharing. At some point, Ororo had slipped out into the room, perched against a chair, and started listening. Somehow, he’d failed to notice until she’d commented, “Are you going to save some for me?”

Kurt had sputtered for a moment, startled by her sudden presence. Not for the first time since meeting her, he was grateful that his blue skin helped hide the heat rising in his cheeks. Swallowing hard, he recovered and said, “You are welcome to join, _Fraulein_.” It was more stilted than he would have liked, but she smiled even so. Professor Xavier cocked an eyebrow, a silent commentary on the display he was privy to.

He grabbed a chair for himself and turned it around, straddling it so that his tail could comfortably hang from the seat as he started on the next one.

The stories were oddly comforting. Rather than feeling inappropriate, like he was turning the focus to himself when he shouldn’t be, he could see the peaceful expressions on Ororo and the Professor’s faces. Perhaps they wouldn’t have been allowed to have this moment otherwise. Earlier on the _Blackbird_ , Ororo had asked him to pray despite not being Catholic herself. She’d claimed it was because it helped him, but she had needed the noise as well, hadn’t she? He knew all too well how terrible it could be to be trapped in your own head, and not just because of…of the serum. He didn’t _think_ of himself as someone prone to melancholy, but it had happened from time to time, nonetheless. And their roles were much stricter than his, leaving little space to escape from that, should it strike.

At some point, several of the students—he recognized Artie and Jubilation, among others—had come out and crowded around the Professor. His heart had pounded when he first realized it. _They don’t want to hurt you. It’s fine_ , he’d had to remind himself, but he managed to continue to the end. With these kids, he had the Incredible Nightcrawler to prop himself up with, and if it got to be too much, he trusted Ororo to help him out.

And besides, they all needed a break from the turbulence behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure if this technically counts as my third prompt or not. The ending is the same as what I had in the drawing, but the context is completely different. Especially with Professor X and some of the kids there. (Then again, I think I may be only loosely following the prompt at this point, if I'm even sticking that closely so...)


	8. Sorting out the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Professor Xavier and Storm begin to work things into some kind of relative interim, the two left on the sidelines are left to sort out their own thoughts on the matter.

It was roughly a week before the Professor began sending the X-Men back to the school to start getting it ready for the students’ return. Scott was…still recovering, not well, struggling to cope…but he had still dragged himself back to help with the efforts. Ororo had prevented Kurt from coming along initially—he could guess why, but he thought he would have been fine. After the first few days, however, she had stopped protesting when he volunteered himself. He didn’t always know where everything should go, but he could at least figure out how to prop and reset hidden doors, how to straighten a bed or dispose of debris that was clearly unsalvageable (though he’d asked on some things anyway, just in case he was mistaken. It was entirely possible in this strange world he’d stumbled into).

It was probably somewhere between one and two weeks later that the students were able to return. Professor Xavier had announced that classes would resume the following week, as he wanted to give them time to adjust. In reality, it was as much for the remaining instructors as it was for the students, if not more so. They needed time to redistribute the classes, figure out who would cover for Jean Grey’s and whether anything else needed to be moved around. When Scott didn’t protest that he would be fine, Kurt understood why.

Although he’d forced himself together at the safehouse and in their efforts to prepare the school, coming back must have shaken something loose, thrown him deeper into his struggle. Logan had certainly seemed to think so. He’d spoken to Scott not too long after they had returned—Kurt hadn’t tried to listen in, though in hindsight, a part of him wished he had—and had refused to let him too far out of his sight since then.

Some of the students had commented that it seemed strange to see Logan hovering not too far from him. Had they not gotten along before? Kurt had assumed they were close with how Logan had instinctively moved to stop him from following after Jean Grey. It didn’t seem like something Logan would be able to do for just anyone. He wanted to ask about it, to see how he and Scott were managing, but even on the rare occasions that he saw them for more than a moment, he could never think of anything to say. Everything either felt completely inappropriate or else the words died in his throat as he moved to get their attention. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to help, even so.

* * *

 

Kurt wasn’t part of the interim group. He had volunteered, certainly, but the Professor had insisted that he avoid pushing himself for the time being. “If you would like,” he had said, “then we can look over what subjects you might teach, and I can add your courses next term.”

It hadn’t been fair to sit back while Professor Xavier and Ororo took on almost double the load they should have had, but he had quickly learned it wasn’t a situation where he could argue.

Rogue had found him sometime later. “They didn’t let you do any, either, huh?” she murmured.

He only shook his head, not sure whether he should ask the obvious inferred by her statement, or if it would be inappropriate to ask why she had wanted to. Even though he wasn’t sure why it would be wrong.

“They said I could start learning next term,” she continued, sparing him from having to ask. “I think sometimes they still see me as that kid who jumped at her own shadow. Not that they don’t have any reason to, just…”

She twisted a white lock of hair to demonstrate. “I just think it’s a stupid reason. It’s not like everything just stopped then. I’ve gotten better.”

“Then” must have been what Logan had referred to that night by the trees. Whatever it was that made everyone wary of Magneto and Mystique—aside from their obvious actions.

When Kurt didn’t respond, she blew the hair out from between her fingers. “It’s probably the same with you. They picked you up from a rough situation, so they think it’s their job to protect you. It’s not…a _bad_ thing, just I think sometimes they forget that we have do it ourselves at some point, and it’s not like you’re a kid, y’know? So like…if we wanted to help out, they should let us pull our share of the weight instead of just…” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

He forced himself to answer this time. “I don’t mind.” There was still a lot to process.

And truthfully, she had hit on a lot of his concerns just then. Was he going to be defined by the Stryker incident forever? Always something either to be sheltered and protected, or else a monster to hunt down?

She started, and then stopped. And then started again. And then stopped again. “Yeah,” she finally said. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for some time before Rogue stood, several joints popping as she did. “I’m starting to feel cramped in here. I’m going to go out to the garden,” she said, not turning around. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Are you sure?” With Rogue, it wasn’t like it was with Ororo, but he was still painfully aware of how unused he had become to this kind of thing.

She nodded once. “Yeah.” There was something else to it, perhaps a kinship from repeatedly being made to sit on the sidelines as the professors did all the hard work. He had begun to wonder if the only reason _he_ had been allowed to infiltrate with them was because they needed a convenient teleporter (which was, admittedly, strange in and of itself, since his adoptive family had worried about him teleporting outside of performance). Ororo had certainly made it clear she didn’t want him exposed to further danger even before they had arrived. A part of him wondered what had made her that way, what made her grab onto things and try to shield them from everything else. But that wasn’t something Rogue could answer for her.

* * *

 

They hadn’t talked much outside, though he had to admit, it felt good to be outdoors again after so long hiding. A part of him still screamed at him to _run, hide, get out of the open,_ but it wasn’t bad. He could be fine. He tried to focus on the sensation of the grass under his feet, the heavy fabric of his coat, the wisp of wind over his ears and tail. He _would_ be fine.

Occasionally, Rogue would throw a comment his way. Sometimes, they fit with what they’d been talking about earlier. “Next term, if you get to teach and I don’t, make me a teaching assistant, okay?”

“We should just find all the little odd jobs around the house and do them. It’s not like they’d be able to stop us with all the grading and stuff they’ll be doing.” It was almost amusing, how stubborn she could be even in times like these.

Other times, she was more thoughtful. “I hope Scott’s okay. I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like that before.” He didn’t know how to answer that. Any kind of reassurance almost felt like a lie.

“Hey, are _you_ okay? I didn’t go through quite what you did, but it really sticks sometimes, y’know?”

In those moments, he could only nod.

* * *

 At one point, they came to a tree and Rogue’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t really Jean’s, but for me…” She crossed her arms as her shoulders hunched.

They were quiet for several minutes after, as she struggled to regain her composure. He had almost reached out to her at one point, but she waved him off. “I’m fine…I’m fine…”

She shook her head. “I feel like I can’t talk about her. Like if I say something, it’s just going to make everyone else even worse. Even if I just say something to Bobby, or…”

Ah. Kurt still wasn’t sure where he fit in all that. Even in the time since they’d returned, he hadn’t forgotten that he hadn’t known her like they did. But maybe this was something he could offer? “If you want to talk, I can…”

She paused as he trailed. “Yeah.” Then she caught herself. “If it’s not gonna bother—”

“No,” he answered. “It will be fine.”

Rogue stood a moment longer, before slumping down against the tree and motioning him to do the same. He debated how he should before deciding to sit with his back to hers. It made the most sense with how she was sitting, and it would give her some element of privacy.

She never turned around. After another moment of silence, she took a breath in and spoke. “When I first came to the school, it seemed like everyone else was…”


	9. When Dawn Has Broken

The morning his pardon was announced, Kurt wept. This wasn’t exactly a surprise to Ororo. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

In the weeks she had known him, he had teared up when Kitty Pryde had tried to teach herself a few phrases in halting and mispronounced German—she had thought he would appreciate being able to speak with someone in his first language, and she underestimated the effect the gesture would have on him. Apparently, acceptance moved him much more than rejection.

He had silently cried in sympathy with her when she finally let herself feel the loss of Jean Grey. She had loved her more than even she herself had been aware, and when the dam had broken, she had believed herself alone until she felt two cautious arms reaching around her, ready to pull away if she jerked back. And she had considered it. A part of her had wanted to pull away, to shrink into herself even further, to pretend he had never seen her weak. Yet some greater part of her made her reciprocate. Though she pulled him close, she still could not allow herself to bury her face in his shoulder.

When she finally pulled away, she had seen the tracks running down his cheeks and realized he had been crying with her. At the time, it had surprised her. Wasn’t there something like that in his religion? Weep with those who weep?

Some part of her wanted to write it off as just that, something he did out of routine, or obligation, or ritual. But even as she thought it, she knew how ridiculous it was to think so. There had always been a cautious element in his approach to those things when he interacted with others, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude” hanging just behind his lips when he thought he might have overstepped.

There had been a question in his eyes, just behind the tears. Was she alright? She hadn’t been able to answer it at the time. Yet some part of her had cracked at his continued attempts to share in her world—her grief as well as her strength—and she had pulled him back in for another hug. His startled squeak managed to draw a laugh from her even then.

 

It wasn’t unusual for Kurt to cry. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence by any means, but it wasn’t anything Earth-shattering, either.

 

Yet there was something completely different about this. That morning, the verdict was announced. The so-called White House Assassin had been thoroughly investigated, and had been found to be acting under “forcible manipulation, coercion, and drugging.” Rogue shifted in a way that made it clear she didn’t like the word choice, but she relaxed once the reporter stated that Kurt was just as much a victim of the crime as the staff of the White House.

There had been a cheer from some of the students, a cry of joy at knowing their newest addition would not be hunted and taken from them in the middle of the night. Kitty nearly dropped through the sofa and had to have Siryn pull her out. Even though Ororo knew it wouldn’t be that simple, she couldn’t help feeling a wave of joy and relief herself.

She turned to Kurt, ready to congratulate him on his pardon. Instead, she was met with a sharp intake, a hitching of his breath as he brought one hand to his mouth, gripping his arm with the other one as his tail began to curl around his leg. A spike of alarm raced through her at first—was he not breathing? But then the second hitch shot through him and he shut his eyes hard as his shoulders began to tremble.

Careful not to draw too much attention, she made her way to him. If he was already feeling overwhelmed, twenty or thirty students swarming to check on him would only make it worse. She placed her hand on his shoulder, keeping her touch firm, but light.

He looked to her, wiping his eyes and offering her a smile. “ _Gott sei Dank_ ,” he whispered, his voice cracking even as he pushed the words out. “ _Gott sei Dank_ …”

The tears had started again, and Ororo pulled him to her, feeling him tuck his face into her shoulder as he shook once more, clinging to her more desperately than she would have thought possible even moments ago.

She felt a wave of nausea overtake her and realized he had teleported without meaning to. Evidently, some emotions were too strong even for him to feel comfortable expressing in front of the others. He’d whispered something in German, which she realized was an apology. “It’s okay, Kurt,” she answered. In this moment, it was the only response even close to appropriate. Briefly, she wondered if he realized he’d defaulted to his first language.

He continued mumbling even as he cried himself out, mostly words and phrases she did not recognize, though she could guess on some of the more frequent ones.

As she held him, it dawned on her just how much he had carried this since they had found him, perhaps before. All this time, not knowing whether he would live or die when all was said and done, whether anyone would see anything other than a monster, whether anyone would even see what had happened with Stryker, whether it would only be used to finish the job. He’d seemed resigned to his involvement, but even there, it hadn’t meant he was okay with it.

Why hadn’t she thought to ask earlier? She’d had so much experience with students seeming to be fine—pretending to be fine—when it wasn’t. How had she missed it with him? Yet a part of her remembered she had also been struggling. Still, to shoulder this much anxiety alone, to weep when it had finally broken? He had gone out of his way to reach her in her grief. Why couldn’t she have done the same?

So she simply held him until he quieted, running her hands along his back and occasionally swaying them back and forth. For a long moment after that, they simply sat together, listening to each other breathe. Absently, she realized he’d teleported them into a small space in the attic, and she wondered if he’d come up here to hide before. He had never been comfortable teleporting to places he didn’t know. Even struggling against a barrage of emotions, she didn’t think that would change.

When he moved to uncurl from her, she cupped his cheek in her hand, running a thumb over the tear tracks and scars along the bone. Tension drained out of him and he leaned into her touch before crawling around to sit beside her.

Finally, she spoke. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

He gave an almost watery laugh. “That is one way to put it.”

When he didn’t offer any further commentary, she continued. “These past few weeks can’t have been easy for you, waiting to hear if you would remain a fugitive or if President McKenna would pardon you.” His eyes averted and he bit his lip, seemingly confirming it. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

He swallowed hard at that, jaw working to deliver an answer. Then he shook his head. “I didn’t feel like I was alone.”

It wasn’t quite the truth, as much as he wanted to believe it was. Ororo felt her brows scrunch in a mixture of concern and questioning. Kurt tensed under her hand, and she began to run it over his shoulder in a small circle. _No, I’m not angry with you_.

“How often did it get like this?” she asked. “How often did you come up here to hide because you were afraid or overwhelmed and you felt like you couldn’t bring that to any of us?”

There was something almost defensive in the way he flinched at that, refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want to intrude.” It was almost reflexive, a quiet fear that something would go wrong no matter how he answered. “I wasn’t the only one who was afraid.”

It was a shielding habit, she’d learned. He’d never said so, but she had seen it often enough. She didn’t know what had made him learn it, if it was something that had happened to him, or something he’d been told, or even just something he had observed. Not for the first time, a protective surge swelled within her, wanting to find the ones who’d taught him that and shake them, but she pushed it down. It wouldn’t help right now.

“Neither was I,” she responded, the words still forming in her mind even as they left her mouth. “Artie spent the better part of a week trailing alongside you—” She nearly lost her train of thought at the shy smile that pulled from him. “—and I know for a fact Rogue and Kitty have talked to you at least twice each. You still found me and made sure I would be all right. Kurt.” She turned to face him, putting her hands on both shoulders. “Why did you think I wouldn’t have done the same for you?”

His lower lip trembled, but he shook his head and wiped his eye. She knew she was scraping edges that were still raw from minutes before. “I didn’t,” he finally said. “I didn’t think you wouldn’t.” Though he said it as if he still wasn’t sure if it was true or not. “I didn’t want to in—” He bit back the phrase before he could finish it. “And when I was living in Boston, I—”

Understanding dawned on her. While she still didn’t quite believe that he _hadn’t_ been afraid someone would refuse to help him—he’d outright confessed he hadn’t wanted to intrude, regardless of what he thought he’d be intruding on—there was also the fact that for years, he hadn’t had the option. He wasn’t used to being around anyone who could help. But then, that could mean…

“Kurt, is this okay?” she asked suddenly, urgently. She hadn’t even considered whether or not he _wanted_ someone with him during this. It had seemed like he did, since he had curled into her instead of pulling away, but still.

Head tilted to one side in a familiar expression of confusion. She explained. “Do you want me to be here with you when things are like this? I grabbed you and you teleported, but I hadn’t even thought, maybe you don’t like to have people with you when—” It was silly of course. He would have let go and teleported elsewhere, or shrank away when she had first reached for him. Wouldn’t he?

His eyes widened as he realized what she had meant. “A-ah. That. This, ach.” He started to reach for the back of his neck, then stopped himself and grabbed at his sleeve instead, tail flicking in agitation at what he had almost done. “This is…this is fine.” He paused. “I think…” He glanced up at her, then back down. “It was easier, having you with me. If it wasn’t—”

She cut him off with a small, relieved smile. “Good,” she said. “If you feel this way again, if things get to be too much for you and you don’t want to be alone for it, come find me, okay? If I can’t be with you immediately, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

It was a lot to bite off. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how much help she would be even if he took her up on it. She’d had plenty of experience with shaken or grieving teenagers, but Jean had always surpassed her in it, and Kurt was certainly not a teenager. Still, it seemed right to offer it.

He seemed to understand that. Kurt gave a small nod, looking just below her eyes, rather than meeting them. “Ja,” he whispered, hardly daring to speak any louder. “Ja, I would like that. And you will also…?”

Ororo could guess what he was asking even as he trailed off, and she would be lying if she pretended it wouldn’t be a tall order for her. She had always preferred to weather things alone. Even in the beginning, Jean and the Professor had tried to reach her for months before they succeeded, and even then, she had almost never let the walls down entirely. “I can try,” she found herself saying, much to her surprise.

From the way Kurt’s mouth dropped the slightest bit, he hadn’t expected it either. She nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t look so surprised,” she teased, the corner of her lip quirking up.

Her response pulled another shy smile from him, and he started like he was going to say something, but he changed his mind, moving to sit back once more. Ororo moved to retake her spot beside him. “Do you want to stay up here for a few minutes?”

He nodded, biting the edge of his lip once.

She shifted, adjusting her position. But he must have interpreted it as a move to get up, and he turned and started to reach for her arm. “Would you stay with me for a bit? This is…” He nodded again.

A part of her wanted to explain that she hadn’t meant to leave, but when she spoke, she simply answered, “Of course.” So they sat their in silence, save for the occasional flicking of Kurt’s tail, the occasional shifting of positions, and watched the light crawl through the window. Things would be okay. Things were going to be okay.

           

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because how could I begin to move on from Jean without also addressing some of the other major character/plot points around X2? This is one of those things I feel like would have been touched on in X-Men: The Last Stand, had it not tried to cram way too many plots into one film. (That's not a bashing on TLS, just an observation that it seemed like it had two separate fully-functional plots going, and with its runtime, couldn't properly devote its attention to both.)
> 
> After the last chapter I wrote, I also wanted to start breaking down some of the harder barriers between these two, especially since I threw a bit of a wrench in everything to take a few chapters to focus on Jean Grey's death and destroyed all hope of returning to the order of the prompts in the original challenge. Then again, this is X-Men, what do you expect?
> 
> In any event, please let me know what you think.  
> ~Rin


End file.
